


Debrief

by thedevilchicken



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Bad Flirting, First Kiss, Getting Together, Locker Room, M/M, Military, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 08:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20189056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: They've been back at Top Gun for eighteen months. Mav's been staring at Ice in the locker room for every single one of them.





	Debrief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplecoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/gifts).

When they're through flying for the day, the first thing they do is a quick debrief. 

They land and they ditch their equipment with the long-suffering ground crew and they head into the office they're meant to share but basically never use except for two things: dumping their wallets and keys and all their personal crap before they start work for the day, and this. It's where Mav hangs up his jacket in the mornings and he keeps switching the hook he uses; Ice keeps picking it up instead of his own at the end of the day and giving him a look that would freeze the goddamn desert when he tries to pull it on over his broader shoulders and realizes his mistake. He's done it more than once, maybe a little less than once a month on average, and Mav still thinks it's hilarious each and every time. Ice really doesn't, so maybe that's why Mav does.

They head into the office and they debrief so they agree on what they'll put down in the class's records. They take actually writing shit down in turns, Ice then Mav then Ice then Mav, because neither of them enjoys that part of the job, not even a little. They even came up with the arrangement themselves, after the fourth time Mav escaped the base on his bike and left Ice to write the reports or face wrath from above; Mav hadn't been leaving him the paperwork accidentally, and Ice didn't threaten to tell tales, but in the end he figured they did have to work together. And he's read a few of their reports back since they started out instructing at Miramar. Turns out that for all Ice's complaints, you can barely even tell which one of them wrote which.

The first thing they do when they get in from flying is a quick debrief. The second thing they do is head for the showers. 

Usually, by the time Mav gets there, Ice is already halfway to undressed. The Top Gun instructors have their own locker room away from the guys in class - Viper says they need to maintain their air of mystery or some similar crap Mav only halfway believes - and Mav hates that Ice just strips the hell off in front of him like it's nothing at all. He knows it pretty much is, or at least it should be because it's not like he's not been used to getting naked in communal showers since sometime back in high school, but he also knows why it's not the same. It's different because he can't keep his goddamn eyes off Ice. He's never been able to, even when all he wanted to do was slam his fist into his face. 

He was staring at Ice while they were still in competition, and now he's been staring again for the eighteen months they've worked together. He told himself it'd get better, but it's not. It's absolutely positively only ever gotten worse; right now, he's proving that to himself again, like he needed the reminder. 

Ice takes off his clothes and Mav tells himself he's not watching. He is. He really, really is, because Ice infuriates him only almost as much as he turns him on.

"You're staring," Ice says. 

Mav's insides clench. "No I'm not," he replies, though it's an outright lie and he knows it. Mostly, he just thinks he's an idiot for getting caught.

"Yeah, you are." Ice turns. "I can see you in the mirror, Maverick. You think you're subtle but you're not. You're staring."

"Y'know, you're really not that interesting." 

"Y'know, I'm really not that vain." 

Mav turns away to face his own locker. "Sure you are," he says. Ice doesn't deny it. It's kinda true, after all, so it makes the best deflection.

When Ice comes closer, when his hand closes on Maverick's shoulder, he's naked and he hasn't bothered tucking a towel around his waist. The jackass is always so damn straightforward, and Mav tenses. He sets his jaw. 

"Take your hand off me," he says, but Ice does no such thing. He squeezes Mav's shoulder instead and his other hand finds his other shoulder. His thumbs dig in a fraction, like he's going to give him the weirdest massage of his entire life; Mav's so tense it hurts and that shouldn't feel good but it does. He shouldn't want it, but he knows he does. He rests his hands against the lockers and he hangs his head. He closes his eyes. When Ice rakes his fingers down the length of Mav's bare back, he takes a sharp breath. He feels his cheeks fucking burn. He feels his dick start getting hard.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mav asks, and Ice chuckles darkly. 

"What do _you_ think I'm doing?" he replies, and he pushes Mav's underwear down over his hips. He runs one hand forward past Mav's hip and down over his abs, fingers splayed. Mav's dick's already hard and when Ice's fingers wrap around him, when he squeezes and rubs his thumb through the moisture at the tip, Mav swears under his breath. What he wants is so damn obvious he might as well be screaming it. But then he might as well have been screaming it for eighteen months by now.

"I think you're trying to fucking humiliate me," Mav says, tightly. 

Ice pulls back abruptly and when Mav turns, because like a dumbass of course he turns, he's standing there with his hands on his hips, his expression far from cool. "All I'm trying to do is fuck you, you idiot," Ice says. "Jesus Christ, I wish I didn't want to. Jesus Christ, I wish I didn't know you want me to." 

"I do?"

Ice laughs. It echoes off the locker room walls. "You've been staring at me every day since we got back here," he says. "Everyone knows, Maverick, including me. Are you telling me you're the only one who doesn't?" He frowns. He pauses. "Are you telling me you don't know we've been flirting since we got here?" His frown deepens, then his brows rise in surprise. "Fuck," he says. "You are." 

Mav knows he should leave. He should pull his uniform on and to hell with the shower, and he should get out of there as fast as he can. He could get a transfer, he's pretty sure. He could get reassigned to a carrier or maybe they'd send him to the academy for a while, not that he really wants that. He likes Top Gun. It feels as much like home as anywhere has in years, except that Ice is there. Maybe even partially because he is. 

He should leave but he doesn't and Ice maybe takes that as a sign because he steps back in. He slips one hand to the back of Mav's neck and he presses his mouth to his. He pushes him up against the lockers and he kisses him. All Mav can do is kiss him back. Pettily, he hopes he messes up his perfect hair.

"Are you convinced?" Ice asks, when he pulls back. His hair's still perfect, the son of a bitch, but his face is flushed.

"It's a start," Mav replies. "What else have you got?"

Ice laughs. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he says.

That much Maverick absolutely believes. 


End file.
